


the more that i know you, the more i want to

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Bechloe Week, Bechloe Week 2020, Childhood Friends, F/F, Fluff, Smut, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: This entire thing is unbeta'd and was written extremely last minute; my apologies for any silly mistakes.Fill for Bechloe Week 2020's day #2 prompt:He bit me.
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 58
Kudos: 177





	1. i was so much younger yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Beca is in kindergarten*, she doesn't really know Chloe Beale. She does, however, know that she feels safe around her.
> 
> *I promise they're older in the next two chapters. 
> 
> Title from Hailee Steinfeld's _Starving_.

It’s really, really annoying, the way all of the other kids are so much bigger than Beca. It’s annoying and it’s unfair, because not only are they bigger than her, they’re _stronger_ , too. And apparently, unlike Beca who, despite having no brothers or sisters to share her toys with at home, has been taught that it’s important to take turns and share with the other children, most of the others are very, very selfish.

So, unsurprisingly, kindergarten is rough for a shorter, smaller than average little girl, especially one who has seemingly yet to develop a backbone, and it is clear that Beca is really not doing the best job at hiding her obvious disappointment as her mother watches her push stray peas around her plate with her plastic fork.

(She and Warren _just_ got her to start eating those, too.)

“Becs?” Debra questions gently, head tilted slightly as she studies her quieter than usual five-year-old. “Is everything okay, baby?”

Instantly, Beca puffs out a deep sigh that conveys the weight of the entire world on her tiny shoulders. “No,” she mumbles quietly, forehead wrinkled with her knitted brows. Her parents exchange a glance, before Beca almost defiantly drops her fork down onto her plate.

“Well,” Warren pushes in the same gentle tone as his wife, “What is it? Did something happen at kindergarten today?”

“It happens every day,” Beca responds with a wide eyed gaze that rises up from her plate to stare almost helplessly between her parents. “I never get to play with the toys I want to play with!” Her bottom lip, already beginning to quiver, pouts out in a way that is so damn precious, Debra knows already that she will be reminding Beca of it when she grows older, but for now, all it does is break her heart. “Everybody always gets to them first. And— and, and...even when I _do_ , they say I have to give it to them.”

By now, tears have begun to bubble dramatically over Beca’s lids. She doesn’t notice the pleading, desperate look her mother shoots toward her father, before Warren rises quickly from his seat at their small dinner table to approach his heartbroken daughter.

“Hey,” he soothes in a soft voice, carefully kneeling down on the hardwood floor directly beside her. Beca lifts her head slowly to stare at him through teary eyes, lip still quivering sadly. “When the other children ask you to hand it over to them, do you?”

“Yes, because we have to share,” Beca responds with a small nod of her head, focus now on the sympathetic look on her father’s face.

Warren seems to think over his response carefully for a moment. “Well, you’re a good girl, Beca. And it’s very nice that you share, but it sounds like the other children maybe don’t know how to.”

“Warren…” Debra frowns, cutting him off briefly.

He simply glances toward her, before continuing, “So, next time, when you’re playing with a toy and someone tells you to give it to them, instead of handing it over, I want you to tell them that you’re playing with it right now, but that you can both play together if they want to. How’s that?”

Beca considers this for a long moment, the idea of telling them _no_. It is a new concept for her, the thought of someone towering over her with a mean look on their face and Beca not immediately relenting. It is a concept that frightens her, truth be told. Eventually, however, she decides that, if that is what Warren thinks she should do, maybe he is right—he _is_ her knight in shining armor, after all. So, Beca finally nods, sniffling quietly as her tears begin to slow.

“That’s my good girl,” Warren says with a kind smile, leaning upward to push a small kiss to the side of Beca’s head.

Falling asleep is easier that night than the one before; Beca knows what to do now, the weight is lifted. Tomorrow will be a better day.

* * *

It strikes Beca as a little bit odd as she walks into kindergarten the following morning with her head held high, her father’s advice safely tucked away in her mind, that her mom stops to talk privately with Ms. Lizzy before leaving. She doesn’t normally do that; normally, Debra helps Beca to hang up her jacket and backpack, then she is on her way. Regardless, Beca chooses not to question it. Not at first, anyway.

It is not until Ms. Lizzy calls out for one of the other girls, Chloe, to join them, that Beca finds herself staring in confusion. She is too far away to hear their conversation, but she can see the kind smile on her mother’s face, and the way all three turn to glance toward Beca. Ms. Lizzy says something, then Chloe dutifully nods her head, before proceeding to wrap her arms tightly around Debra’s legs in a without-warning hug.

Beca doesn’t really know Chloe. Realistically, Beca doesn’t really know many of the kids in her kindergarten class. She knows their faces, she knows most of their names, but Beca really is a bit of a loner. So, when Debra waves goodbye and Chloe makes a beeline for her, arms outstretching to fling tightly around Beca’s neck in a warm hug, Beca doesn’t really know what to do with it. Instinctively, she gasps, whole body freezing slightly, until Chloe eventually pulls back to stare at her with a toothy grin.

“Do you want to play?” Chloe asks cheerfully, and Beca notes a level of confidence that she could really only ever dream of herself.

She finds herself simply blinking incredulously for a moment, before finally nodding her head. “Um. Yeah,” Beca cautiously agrees, “Okay.”

Chloe responds with an excited smile, hand sticking out to automatically wrap her small fingers tightly around Beca’s. “What should we play with?” she asks as she half bounces toward the still relatively tidy toy corner, dragging Beca along behind her. Twenty minutes later and it will be chaos, but considering it is first thing in the morning, they pretty much have first pick of the toys.

“Umm…” Beca thinks, wide eyes scanning meticulously over the options. Normally, she will just take whatever is left, or what she thinks nobody else will want to play with; it’s just easier that way, less hassle for her. The pattern blocks are her favorite, but unfortunately for Beca, they happen to be everybody else’s favorites, too. So, usually she will steer clear.

She is about to do just that, before something mentally seems to stop her. Maybe it is the feeling of Chloe’s hand clutching protectively onto her own, or the way Chloe seems to be surrounded by a forcefield that Beca thinks maybe will stretch over her today, too, that has her finally reaching out her free hand to point into the toy box. “What about the pattern blocks?”

“Yeah!” Chloe responds both brightly and without question, grasp on Beca’s hand dropping until she can lean over to pluck the box of neatly stored away blocks with both hands. “I like the pattern blocks, too. We could build a house!”

Satisfied with their selection, Beca follows Chloe toward the nearby carpet area, where both kneel down carefully to begin separating the blocks into different colors, and Beca finds that it is probably the most fun she has had at kindergarten... _ever_. She likes playing with the blocks, and already, she likes playing with Chloe.

Chloe is taller than Beca—then again, who isn’t?—and has a loud voice that easily overpowers most of the other kids in the room. But, for some reason, Beca doesn’t find her scary like she does the others. Chloe is nice, and she lets Beca pick her blocks first. They decide together the shape they want to build their house, and Beca finds herself studying the kind look on Chloe’s face whenever Beca places a block where they both think it should go. Studying Chloe is actually kind of fun in general, in fact; she has bright red hair that reminds Beca of a more orange version of Muffy Crosswire, her favorite character from her favorite show, Arthur, and when Beca tells Chloe, Chloe squeals with delight about how Arthur is her favorite show, too.

Chloe is fun, and Beca feels very safe with her. So much so that, when Chloe announces that she has to go use the bathroom, leaving Beca alone briefly with their blocks and half-built house, Beca doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid.

Apparently, however, Chloe’s momentary departure serves as a good opening for some of the other kids. Specifically that one boy, Bumper, who always seems to want whichever toy Beca is playing with. She doesn’t actually see him approaching the carpet until he pushes past her to start collecting up the blocks.

At first, Beca’s eyes widen in initial fear, mouth pressing into a thin line as she watches Bumper destroy the hard work she and Chloe have put into their block house. It is instinct for Beca to let him take them, to sit back and stay quiet, but almost as if it is sounding over a speakerphone into the room, her father’s voice echoes into her ears.

_“Instead of handing it over, I want you to tell them that you’re playing with it right now, but that you can both play together if they want to.”_

Although Bumper has already very much gotten to work on taking the blocks and throwing them haphazardly into the box beneath his arm, Beca licks over her lips, before reaching out to take it carefully from his grasp. “Um,” she frowns, reciting her father’s advice, “Me and Chloe are playing with those right now. But...but you can play as well, if you want to.”

Bumper pauses to blink at her, nose wrinkling in disgust. “I don’t want to play with girls,” he sneers, snatching the box back to continue throwing the blocks inside.

“Oh…” Beca responds quietly, easily relenting. It would be very easy for her to just give in, to let Bumper take their toys away. That is her usual response, anyway.

However, Beca cannot help but think of Chloe’s reaction. The idea of disappointing her, of having to explain that their game is over all because Beca didn’t have the guts to stop someone from taking their blocks away, for some reason turns Beca’s stomach. It is the very thought that has her standing from her spot and reaching out to wrap her fingers tightly around the box, much to Bumper’s surprise. “Well, then you can play with the blocks after,” she says, mustering a little uncharacteristic conviction.

Naturally, Bumper stares at her like she is crazy, before immediately reaching out to snatch the box back. However, Beca refuses to let up this time, she refuses to let go, and the brief tug of war that ensues seems to be going pretty evenly to begin with, right up until Bumper leans over and Beca feels a sharp dig into her finger.

“Ow!” she yelps, instantly letting go to examine the deep bite mark right the way across her finger. Immediately, Beca’s eyes glaze over with salty tears, bottom lip jutting out to quiver sadly.

“Bumper, what are you _doing_?” Chloe’s voice sounds from behind them.

Although entirely unaffected by Beca’s tears, Bumper glances up at the sound of Chloe’s voice addressing him.

Beca notes the way Chloe’s hands are balled into tight fists that plant firmly on her hips. There is a deep frown on her face, very much the opposite of the kind expression Beca has been used to all morning, though one quick glance toward Beca, to the tears streaming down her puffy cheeks, and it softens almost instantly.

“Oh, Beca,” Chloe gasps quietly, stepping forward to pull Beca into a tight hug. “It’s okay, we’ll tell Ms. Lizzy and he’ll have to give them back.”

“But,” Beca sniffs, pulling back from Chloe’s protective hold to look down at her sore finger. “He bit me!”

“ _What?_ ” Chloe’s brows tug tightly together, scowl wrinkling onto her pale face as she glances by Beca and toward Bumper. “You can’t just _bite_ people!”

She looks as if she might lunge toward him at any second, and Beca notes the way Bumper seems to freeze as he comes to the same realization. Chloe is not scary, at least not to Beca, but she sure knows how to command attention.

It is not until another small sniffle escapes Beca, the sound immediately pulling Chloe’s focus, that she tears her scowl away. Bright blue eyes meet with Beca’s, and Chloe’s angered expression naturally softens once again.

“Here,” Chloe says in a much more gentle voice, reaching down to carefully pick up Beca’s hand. Beca whines in automatic reaction, though Chloe moves it like the most delicate flower, and Beca just watches as she lifts it up toward her mouth, until she can push a soft kiss over the top of the bite mark. She carefully moves it away to examine the reddening mark left behind from Bumper’s nasty little razor teeth, before shooting a small, sympathetic smile toward Beca. “All better?”

While Beca sniffs, her tears have already slowed, and she stares up at Chloe through glassy eyes, head nodding softly.

“Good,” Chloe hums quietly, free arm wrapping around Beca’s shoulders. “Let’s go and show Ms. Lizzy anyway,” she says, beginning to lead Beca toward their teacher. She turns to scowl over her shoulder in the process, grumbling out an annoyed, “You can’t just _bite_ people, Bumper.”

As they approach their teacher, Chloe’s arm still wrapped protectively around Beca’s shoulders, Beca realizes that, in spite of her throbbing finger, she has never actually felt quite so safe.


	2. something inside me's changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beca and Chloe are fifteen, they _really_ don't want to miss their first ever high school party... But!

There is next to nothing _good_ about being a fifteen year old girl—especially not one that is _still_ waiting for her falsely promised growth spurt.

“It’ll happen, Bec. Everyone’s different! People change at different stages,” Warren has told her so many times that Beca is beginning to look into the very real possibility that her father is, in fact, a literal robot, and has been programmed with only a small number of preset phrases.

Still, she supposes it is better than the times Sheila has wrapped an arm around her shoulder and told her gleefully, “There’s nothing wrong with being short! We’re just compact, that’s all.”

Perhaps it is unfair, the fact that Beca still refuses to really let her step-mother in. Beca just...she doesn’t like her. And it is not as if she is under the impression that, without Sheila, her parents’ divorce would’ve never happened. It would’ve, Beca knows it would’ve. It really is just that Beca doesn’t get along with her; Sheila is much too peppy, much too intent on filling a motherly role that is already very much taken by Beca’s actual mother.

Plus, Beca has enough pep in her life in the form of her best friend.

Chloe, Beca’s rock since kindergarten, is pretty much Beca’s polar opposite. While Beca is somewhat withdrawn, usually found with a frown on her face, going through a phase where she refuses to try any other outfit style than baggy, oversized band tees and hoodies that disguise her unfairly flat chest… Chloe is very much the happy, smiley ray of sunshine to balance her out. Chloe is friendly and approachable, she wears pretty dresses that Beca wouldn’t be seen dead in, but that Chloe manages to pull off beautifully. Unlike Beca, who is sure people only really tolerate her because she comes as a package deal with Chloe at this point, everybody likes Chloe, everybody wants to be her friend.

So, Chloe is all of the pep Beca really needs, and Debra has the biological mother role filled; Beca doesn’t need Sheila.

Her father, of course, is entirely, sickeningly smitten with the woman. Beca cannot see the appeal, but whatever. It is fortunate that she only has to deal with her half of the time—split custody is a major pain in the butt, but at least Beca gets to see her parents in equal doses.

Still, moving between houses each week definitely adds to the natural difficulties that come along with being a fifteen year old girl, and Beca finds that life has her entirely exhausted as she finally returns to her father’s house after a particularly slow Friday, backpack dumped lazily onto the table.

“Beca!” Sheila hisses quietly. Her own quiet volume doesn’t matter, of course; the clattering sound of Beca’s belongings hitting the hard surface has already roused the sleeping baby in his mother’s arms, and he proceeds to whine his disdain loudly. Evidently tired herself, Sheila lets out a small sigh, before grumbling an annoyed, “Thank you for that,” under her breath, and continuing to rock the baby gently.

“My bad,” Beca frowns without much real care, brow raising as she shuffles toward the fridge to dig around for an after-school snack.

“You’re the one who’ll suffer when he’s late for his nap then doesn’t sleep for you tonight,” Sheila comments in a quiet voice, though loudly enough for Beca to hear.

“What?” Beca questions, pausing as her fingers wrap around a half-full bottle of orange juice.

Immediately, Sheila releases another exasperated sigh. “Oh, Beca, _please_ don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Okay, so maybe it takes her a moment to rack her brain for an actual explanation, but it eventually hits her before Sheila has the chance to complain further. “Oh, yeah,” Beca says with a small shrug of her shoulder, “I’m babysitting tonight, right? Didn’t forget.”

It is obvious that Sheila is not entirely convinced, but chooses to stay quiet. An argument between a tired mother and a cranky teenager is really not appealing to anyone, after all.

Beca’s baby brother, Noah, is hard work, Beca knows that. With her father working full time—embarrassingly enough as a teacher at Beca’s school, nonetheless—and Sheila essentially stuck home with him twenty-four hours a day, it makes sense that she needs a break every now and then. When Noah had refused to nap a couple days prior and Sheila had practically broken down in the middle of their kitchen, with Warren desperately trying to soothe her with the promise of a date night on Friday, Beca had begrudgingly agreed to sit.

(It is not like Beca ever has any other Friday night plans, anyway.)

With Noah’s whining slowing slightly, Beca makes sure to close the refrigerator door as quietly as possible so as not to startle him again—for his sake, not Sheila’s; Beca actually likes her brother—before practically tiptoeing to retrieve a glass from the cupboard.

Beca’s attempts at a quiet little mouse impression are evidently in vain, of course, something she realizes as the door swings open abruptly, with Beca’s head snapping in its direction, and Noah immediately reacting with a loud, shrill wail.

“Beca!” Chloe greets excitedly, wasting no time in running across the kitchen and toward Beca, the heels of her sandals tapping loudly against the hard flooring.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” Sheila growls, realizing she is clearly in the wrong room to try to get the baby to sleep. She turns sharply on her heel to trudge out of the kitchen with the screaming infant in her arms.

“Oh, oops…” Chloe grimaces slightly, quietly calling after her, “Sorry, Mrs. Mitchell.”

All Beca can do is subtly chuckle in response.

It is really not uncommon for Chloe to enter a room and Beca’s lips to instantly curl up into a bright smile; she really is her sunshine, after all—and when her presence manages to piss off Beca’s step-mother, she totally earns herself extra points.

With her entire focus on Chloe, and Sheila now a distant memory, Beca shoots a greeting smile Chloe’s way. “What’s up?” she questions, reaching into the cupboard to grab a second glass. “You seem…” she pauses, head tilting momentarily, “In a hurry.”

Chloe quickly nods her head in response, reaching out to take the glasses from Beca’s hands. Beca dutifully lets go, studying Chloe with an arched brow.

“I am,” Chloe announces, “Guess what we’re doing tonight.”

Although Beca opens her mouth to speak, Chloe continues before she can with an excited, “We’re going to a party!”

Immediately, Beca’s eyes widen in response. “A party?”

“Mhm!” Chloe nods quickly, “At Aubrey’s house.” She pauses then, expression dropping slightly. “Wait, your dad will let you go, right? We have to be there, this is gonna be our first _high school_ party, Bec. And I heard,” again, Chloe pauses, this time to lean closer and continue in a quieter voice, “There are gonna be no parents there.”

Although not the most forward, sociable of people, Beca has, like most teens, dreamed of this very day. It is like a rite of passage, the chance to _finally_ attend a real high school party. Beca thinks she is mature enough to handle it, she thinks her dad might even agree, too. It strikes her quickly, however, as she watches Chloe’s hopeful, expectant gaze, that it really doesn’t matter, because Beca already has other obligations. Instantly, her shoulders slump, and it is clear that Chloe can read her mind.

“Aw, Bec, come _on_ ,” Chloe whines, “We can’t just... _not_ go. Everyone’s going to be there!”

“Everyone but me,” Beca says through a defeated sigh. “My dad and Sheila are going out to dinner, I have to babysit my brother.”

Although Beca is upset, the disappointment that shines in Chloe’s eyes in response is its own level of torture. It has always been the same way, Chloe has always had some kind of power over Beca that she truly cannot explain. So, despite her own feelings, despite the fact that she knows deep down she will be entirely jealous of Chloe going without her, Beca shrugs a shoulder, offering Chloe the most convincing smile she can muster. “It’s fine, Chlo. You should still go.”

“But—” Chloe tries, though Beca cuts her off with an adamant shake of her head.

“No, stop. You have to go,” Beca presses. “Just because I’m stuck babysitting doesn’t mean you have to miss out, too. You should go.” She finds that she doesn’t even have to force her own insistence; as usual, Beca just wants Chloe to be happy. “Really. You can take pictures, and you can call me and tell me all about it after, right?”

Chloe’s shoulders drop this time. “But it won’t be the same without you,” she pouts exaggeratedly.

Beca’s nose wrinkles at that, mostly because she knows that it is not true; if Beca went, she’d probably spend most of the evening awkwardly trailing along behind Chloe and her friends without offering much conversational input herself. Still, she chooses not to say so, and instead shrugs a shoulder once more. “There’ll be another one. You have to go though, Chlo… Promise?”

Lips still pushed out into a pout, Chloe seems to think over her response for a moment, though Beca’s insistent stare seems to win her over eventually. “Fine,” Chloe frowns. “But you know I won’t have any fun without you, right?”

Beca chuckles softly in response, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Again, Chloe responds with a small frown, but again, she chooses not to argue.

Although she stays to pout a little longer, eventually she has to leave. Not before, of course, pulling Beca into a tight, comforting Chloe-esque hug, one that Beca returns much more easily than she would a hug from anybody else.

“You’re sure it’s okay that I go?” Chloe murmurs quietly into Beca’s shoulder. Her curled hair tickles Beca’s neck; it is a sensation Beca finds oddly comforting.

“Positive,” Beca nods, finally pulling slightly back. Always in sync, Chloe takes a step back, too.

“Fine,” she says again, beginning to walk backward toward the door with another exaggerated pout. Beca watches her with a look of amusement drawn onto her face. “But I’m _not_ going to have any fun,” she says adamantly, finally turning to tug open the door. She pauses to glance over her shoulder, “And your dad and Sheila totally suck.”

Beca cannot help but giggle openly at that, eyes rolling fondly. “I’ll make sure they know.”

* * *

Beca loves her brother. If anything good came from her parents’ divorce, and the subsequent addition of Sheila, it is the eventual arrival of Noah. Beca doesn’t like babies, she finds them annoying; Noah is not exempt from the annoying part, of course, but he’s a cute kid, and he’s her brother, so Beca has that natural connection to him.

Now, of course, with the knowledge of the entire school congregating at Aubrey Posen’s house without her, everybody in her grade taking that big, adult step while Beca is left behind, she can really think of nothing she wants to do less than babysit him.

Obviously, it is not Noah’s fault, but being a cranky, hormonal teenager, Beca cannot help but frown at him as he sits in the middle of their living room like a chubby teddy bear ready to topple over at any moment, excitedly showing her his colorful baby blocks.

“Yeah, I see it,” she grumbles, taking the block from him as he persistently holds it up toward her face, “It’s great. Better than a party.”

Her dad and Sheila have only been gone for about twenty minutes, and it is still relatively early in the evening, so of course Noah is still bursting with energy, despite his resistance to nap earlier. Not that Beca will ever openly agree with Sheila, but she silently has to admit, he really is pretty exhausting.

“Can’t you, like, go to sleep so I can sneak out for an hour or something?” Beca frowns. Obviously, she would never leave him alone, but she can dream; it is difficult not to dwell on the party she knows she is missing out on, after all.

Noah squawks back unintelligibly, reaching for another block to force Beca’s way.

The look of sheer determination on his face causes Beca to instantly soften, and she cannot help her small chuckle in response. “You’re so cute, but you’re seriously _so_ annoying,” she comments with a fond roll of her eyes, reaching forward to wipe the drool from his chin with the sleeve of her sweater.

Likely as a bribe because Beca had brought up the party in a not so subtle hint for he and Sheila to find another babysitter for the night, before their departure, Warren had ordered Beca a pizza for dinner. They order from the same place pretty often; it’s good pizza, but it always takes at least forty minutes to arrive. So, when a knock sounds at the door only moments later, and Beca glances up at the large clock on the wall to see the time, she frowns in confusion.

“Already?” she mumbles to the baby, who ignores her in favor of throwing his blocks around—not that he can understand her, anyway. Despite the fact that Beca is under strict instruction not to open the door to anybody but the pizza delivery person, she pushes herself up from the floor to peek curiously through the window, brows raising as her gaze lands on the familiar sight staring back at her.

“Why is the door locked?” she hears Chloe’s muffled voice sounding through the window, “Let me in!”

Despite her confusion, there is a small, natural smile tugging at Beca’s lips as she hurries toward the door, twisting open the latch and opening up to see Chloe dressed in a pair of sweats and a comfortable tee, very much _not_ party ready. “What are you doing here?” Beca questions with a wrinkled nose, stepping aside to allow Chloe the room to enter.

“Why was your door locked?” Chloe asks again as she makes her way into the house.

“My dad said I had to,” Beca shrugs in response, closing the door behind her visitor. “Uh, why aren’t you at the party?” Despite her attire, she has a feeling Chloe is not here to borrow clothes.

“Mm, I thought about going,” Chloe says, hopping gracefully toward the kitchen, “But I was serious before, Beca. It wouldn’t be any fun without you. So, I guess we’re babysitting buddies for the night.”

At first, Beca wants to protest, to tell Chloe that she’s being dumb, and that she should go enjoy the party for the both of them. There really is no use in both of them missing out, right? But, as Chloe emerges from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of water and breezes toward the baby still playing happily in the living room, she finds that she just cannot find the words.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Beca chuckles quietly as she follows along behind her, plopping down onto her knees beside her two favorite people.

“You’re my best friend,” Chloe says with a nonchalant shrug, “I just have the most fun with you.”

It is difficult for Beca not to grin in response.

* * *

Although Beca is perfectly capable of taking care of Noah alone, she finds that she is grateful for Chloe’s help. Despite his bubbly energy at the start of the evening, the sleep he’d fought so nobly against earlier eventually begins to take over, and Beca has learned over the last few months that there really is nothing more tiring than a cranky baby.

“Dude, come _on_ ,” Beca whines as she stands in the middle of his bedroom, gently rocking Noah back and forth in her arms. “Why won’t you just sleep?”

Chloe stands beside them, nose wrinkling as she watches Beca’s movements. “Mm, I think you’re rocking him wrong,” she comments thoughtfully, her tone much more level than Beca’s. “Try laying him a little flatter.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Beca grumbles, though gently tips the baby further back regardless, “I think he’s just a literal demon.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Chloe’s giggles, the melodic sound seeming almost out of place amidst the sound of Noah’s incessant screeching. Quickly, she takes a small step closer, holding out her arms. “Here, let me try.”

While Beca considers herself an independent person, she is absolutely not above accepting help with a screaming baby, so if Chloe wants to try, Beca is more than happy to hand him over. The light feeling of him no longer in her arms is very much welcomed, and Beca wraps them comfortably around her middle as she watches Chloe carefully with a subtle frown on her face.

“Hey, why are you so fussy?” Chloe coos quietly, gaze down on the baby as she holds him tightly against her chest. “We still have half a pizza left to eat down there, you need to sleep before it goes cold.”

Beca quietly chuckles as she leans back against the wall, unable to help really studying the frankly adorable interaction.

It is easy to study Chloe, Beca finds. In fact, it is something she does pretty often.

Beca’s contented stare takes in the sight of Chloe’s long hair scraped back into a ponytail, side bangs framing her face in a way that, somehow, makes her already incredibly blue eyes pop even more brightly. She is so comforting to Beca, she is such a comforting presence. In fact, she always has been, and Beca really cannot help but take that same comfort in her now.

Apparently, Beca is not the only Mitchell who thinks so, because eventually, as he lay comfortably in her arms, Noah’s dramatic sobbing begins to slow, until Beca realizes that she can finally hear her own thoughts again.

“Is he asleep?” she whispers in disbelief, daring herself to take a cautious step forward.

“Mm,” Chloe nods her head, “I think so,” she whispers back gently, “Should we try put him in his crib?”

“Yeah,” Beca responds quietly, watching in something akin to awe as Chloe carefully carries the baby toward his crib. Delicately, she leans over to lay him down onto the soft foam mattress, and Beca finds that she holds her breath as Chloe carefully moves her arms from beneath him. Somehow, by the grace of... _whoever_ , Noah’s eyes remain closed.

“Dude,” Beca whispers, stepping steadily toward the crib until she is in line with Chloe. Chloe is standing beside it, staring down at the baby with a proud smile on her face. “Since when are you a baby whisperer?”

“One of my many secret talents,” Chloe teases, softly bumping her hip against Beca’s.

It is fortunate that Chloe’s hair is the bright color it is, because the sight of a strand hovering over Noah’s chin glistens obviously beneath the dim light, so Beca leans into the crib to carefully brush it away.

Chloe may be a baby whisperer, but Beca is decidedly not, so _of course_ the second her finger hovers near his mouth, Noah somehow clamps down.

“Motherfu—” Beca hisses, quickly pulling her hand back.

While Noah stirs briefly, he miraculously doesn’t wake up, and Beca glances up to the sight of Chloe’s eyes wide with both surprise and amusement. She can tell she is trying to stifle a giggle as she asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Beca’s face has wrinkled into a deep frown as she whispers back, hand clutching her index finger, “He bit me!”

It proves too difficult for Chloe to hold back her amusement this time. “Bec, he has, like, three teeth,” she giggles quietly. Regardless, she reaches out to gently take hold of Beca’s hand, lifting it up to carefully examine the damage.

(Admittedly, it is minimal.)

“They’re sharp,” Beca mutters petulantly.

She ignores the look of obvious amusement painted across Chloe’s features, the same way Chloe ignores the deep frown drawn onto Beca’s.

“Well, I’m no doctor,” Chloe finally says in a hushed tone, mindful of the sleeping baby in the crib beside them, “But I think you’ll live, Bec. I mean, I at least don’t think we’re going to have to amputate.”

Beca scowls in response, taking note of the way Chloe still has her fingers wrapped around her hand. She doesn’t question it—they hold hands a lot, truth be told; they always have. In the same way, she doesn’t question it as Chloe carefully lifts up her hand toward her mouth, face tipping forward to eventually push a delicate kiss to her finger. “There,” Chloe says softly, finally releasing her hold on Beca’s hand, “All better?”

“Yes,” Beca grumbles, wrapping her arms defiantly around her middle again, “Thanks.”

Chloe grins proudly in response, and Beca doesn’t quite understand why she can feel her cheeks beginning to heat up beneath what is such a familiar, captivating stare.


	3. you hit me head-on, got me weak in my knees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're adults now, they don't really mind biting all too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big shout out to [Theresa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iPhone/pseuds/iPhone) for planting this chapter's particular seed!

From as far back as she can remember, Beca has genuinely never minded her own company. She has a pretty active imagination, something that serves her well as a professional songwriter, and that fortunately kept her decent enough company for the first five years of her life… Back before the need to keep herself entertained dwindled.

Back before that certain, specific brand of sunshine broke its way so beautifully into Beca’s life.

There is really only so much time these days, though, that Beca can spend alone in hotel room after hotel room thanks to work-related travel without going entirely crazy, and it is not because of the being alone part.

It is because of who Beca knows is waiting for her at home.

It is because she misses her sunshine, a thought that only hits her harder as Beca distractedly lifts the lid of her laptop, the screen lighting up to display her favorite picture of she and Chloe, the one in Vegas, that Chloe set as Beca’s wallpaper forever ago, and that Beca has never even considered changing since.

Beca hates wearing dresses, but she’d worn one that night. Chloe’s red dress with the white pattern had been a replacement for the outfit Beca had somehow managed to spill beer right the way down before they’d even made it out of their hotel room. Beca remembers it vividly; she remembers that, despite the fact that Aubrey should’ve really been the main focus of the trip—Vegas was her birthday surprise, after all—Chloe had spent the entire night whispering into Beca’s ear just how incredible she looked as Beca perched in her lap. She remembers the unrelenting feeling of heat spreading between her clenched thighs each time Chloe’s fingertips would trail down her side, and Beca got to imagine what exactly would happen once they made it back to their room and Chloe could rip that very same dress right back off.

Vegas seems like a long time ago now. In fact, it _was_ a long time ago. It was back during the early stages of their relationship, back during the time that she and Chloe were still feeling out the transition from best friends to two people so desperately, sickeningly in love with one another that they didn’t even know how to _be_ without each other for longer than a night.

Things have progressed in the years since. They have gotten more serious into their mid-twenties, more adult in the comfort of their relationship. And while Beca _can_ be without Chloe for a weekend here and there now, she doesn’t _like_ when she has to be.

It is that feeling of dislike that has a small sigh escaping her lips, before Beca glances to the time in the top right corner of her laptop screen. It is early evening for her, which means that Chloe, three hours ahead of her back home in their New York apartment, will likely be done with dinner and any other evening plans she may have had by now. It is the perfect time, Beca decides as her finger sweeps lightly across the trackpad, for a video call.

Mindlessly, Beca clicks on Chloe’s contact, ignoring the sight of her own reflection in FaceTime’s preview window—she is more interested in seeing Chloe, after all.

After only half a ring, the program seems to glitch to the point of the window growing black—Chloe would never hang up on her, obviously—and Beca’s brows tug tightly together in confusion. Instinctively, she glances toward the Wi-Fi icon displayed on the top bar, almost surprised to see its full strength.

“What?” Beca murmurs quietly to herself, cursor scrolling back toward the FaceTime window for a second attempt. She barely gets the chance to click on it before the sound of a knock to her hotel room door pulls her attention, and Beca’s frown only deepens in response.

“Uh, yeah,” she calls quickly, sliding the laptop away from her, to instead rise from the bed. “Just a sec.”

Beca is wearing leggings and one of Chloe’s old shirts, hair bunched up in a messy bun on top of her head. Fortunately, she has absolutely no desire to impress whoever may be disrupting her virtual time with her girlfriend, so she thinks nothing of it as she swings open the door almost lazily to be met with—

“Surprise!” Chloe squeals, grin stretching onto her lips as she takes in the look of wide-eyed surprise on Beca’s face.

“Oh, my God,” Beca chuckles gently as Chloe lunges forward to wrap her arms tightly around her waist. Beca, of course, clings on just as tightly, arms wrapping comfortably around Chloe’s neck, and allows herself a moment to take in the familiar scent of Chloe’s coconut shampoo as she nuzzles into her. “What are you doing here?” Beca murmurs blissfully into Chloe’s shoulder-length curls.

“Eh, I was in town,” Chloe jokes, body pressing up against Beca’s in an effort to lead her back seamlessly into the hotel room— _their_ hotel room, apparently.

“I’m serious,” Beca insists with an amused smirk, arms loosening from around Chloe’s neck. Of course, she has no desire to part from her completely, and allows her hands to trail to the lapels of Chloe’s jacket, fingers clutching onto the fabric. “What are you doing here?”

Eyes taking in the sight of Beca in front of her, Chloe never tears her stare away as she kicks the door gently closed behind her. “Baby, our anniversary is in two days, did you _really_ think we were going to spend it apart?”

It is almost pathetic, the way Beca’s wide grin refuses to fade as she glances up at her favorite person through fanned lashes. “I know, but I thought you had to work.” It is not that she is protesting Chloe’s presence, of course; Beca is just confused, that’s all. But she is certainly not complaining.

All Chloe does is gently shrug a shoulder in response, and Beca has absolutely no desire to question her further.

* * *

Beca’s quiet, lonely evening in her sweats turns out to be anything but. Decidedly both starving, both she and Chloe freshen up a little, before heading to the hotel’s restaurant for dinner. It is a relatively upscale place—one of the perks of a music industry career, even if she is just a lowly songwriter—but Beca really doesn’t take much notice of the four-star ambiance; her focus, as usual, is entirely on Chloe, on how effortlessly beautiful she looks as she sits across the table, and of course on the way Chloe unabashedly brushes her foot up against the side of Beca’s leg throughout their meal.

They may have been together for a while now (five years on Sunday, to be exact), but that doesn’t mean they have ever grown out of that needy, can’t keep their hands to themselves phase. So, it is anything but surprising once the elevator doors close and Chloe proceeds to push Beca gently back against the wall.

“This is a classy place,” Beca teases with absolutely zero conviction, head tilting easily to the side to accommodate the way Chloe’s lips instantly trail toward her exposed neck. Her fists grasp at the loose fabric of Chloe’s shirt, making sure to pull her body up tightly against her own, “They probably have rules against fucking in an elevator.”

Already, Chloe’s lips have begun to pepper kisses down toward Beca’s collarbone, and Beca couldn’t begin to muster up an ounce of resistance even if she wanted to. “Mm, I’ll wait until we’re in the room,” she murmurs against Beca’s skin, “I just missed you.”

“Missed you more,” Beca mumbles, body practically melting beneath Chloe’s familiar touch.

While she doesn’t have much to compare it to—Chloe truly is her childhood sweetheart—Beca knows that the two of them have an incredibly healthy, active sex life. Beca really never imagined herself to be the most adventurous, most experimental in the bedroom, but with Chloe, she is. She is many things with Chloe, in fact.

To see the way they practically fall through the door to their hotel room, however, anyone would think they hadn’t gotten to touch each other in months, especially given the way Beca whimpers softly against Chloe’s parted lips as a knee slips in between Beca’s thighs. Though not exactly dripping through the barrier of her panties, jeans and Chloe’s jeans, Beca can already feel how wet she is, she can feel the way her stomach tenses and her center pulses, so ready for Chloe’s touch. She knows how much Chloe will appreciate it once she gets to feel for herself.

“God, I missed you,” Chloe croons breathlessly as she carefully leads Beca backward and toward the king size bed.

It is laughable really, the fact that it has literally been two days since they last saw one another, but Beca doesn’t find anything funny right now. It is not funny, the way Chloe lays her down against the mattress, with Beca’s neck arching to desperately search out Chloe’s lips with her own. It is not funny, the way Beca’s hands slip instinctively beneath the loose fabric of Chloe’s shirt to begin pushing it upward. It is desperate and urgent, they are a mess of haphazardly flying clothing and heavy breathing, until Chloe’s naked body, beautiful and familiar, is hovering over the top of Beca’s, and Beca moans quietly into the feeling of Chloe’s thigh pushing in between her bare legs, easily spreading her further apart.

In a not so subtle hint for real contact, Beca’s hips rise to push herself onto Chloe’s thigh, an exasperated whine escaping her lips in response to the way Chloe moves to stop her.

“No,” Chloe murmurs, hands grasping delicately onto Beca’s wrists, until she can lift her arms up above her head. Beca does nothing to fight her, of course; she simply leans back into the pillows, goosebumps appearing on her skin beneath the feeling of Chloe’s lips pushing, open-mouthed, to hot patches of prickling skin.

How Chloe always manages to be so thorough, so disciplined with her movements, Beca truly does not know. Though, she chooses not to question it as Chloe’s hands keep her wrists pressed firmly onto the mattress above her, only moving to slide further down with the movement of her body. Eventually, her hands, sticky and desperate, have slid right the way down Beca’s arms, holding them down with the same level of discipline, as her lips part to wrap gently around a stiffened, pebbled nipple.

“Fuck,” Beca mumbles through a shaky breath. She can’t move her arms, but her hands ball into tight fists as Chloe’s pointed tongue flickers over the peak of her nipple, the feeling causing a wider spread of heat between Beca’s parted legs. “Fuck, Chloe.”

Beca cannot decide whether to whine as Chloe’s lips release her nipple with the most delicious sounding _pop_ , or feel grateful, because she has begun to push kisses to hot skin within only seconds, wet lips traveling smoothly down Beca’s trembling torso. Chloe presses her lips, parted and hungry, to Beca’s stomach, tongue running, unrelenting, over that sensitive patch on her hip that causes Beca to whimper in anticipation.

By now, Chloe has moved far enough down that she can’t hold onto Beca’s arms any longer, but neither seems to mind, especially not as desperate fingertips trail over defined abs, until Chloe’s palms are pushing between Beca’s thighs and slowly spreading her further apart. Beca chances a glance down just in time to see the lust-filled look in Chloe’s darkened, hooded eyes, catches the way Chloe brings her hungry stare up toward Beca’s face as she ducks her head to wrap her lips, parted and kiss-swollen, around Beca’s already aching clit.

“Fuck,” Beca repeats, head tipping back a little further into the pillows behind her. Her hips push upward seemingly on their own, pressing herself more harshly into Chloe’s touch, and by the way Chloe’s flattened tongue begins to move along Beca’s swollen clit, it is clear that she is not complaining.

This has always been one of Chloe’s (many) strong suits, going down on Beca. But Beca notes that there is something even better about it this time, something more urgent that only adds to the desperation she feels, the need she has to come for the woman between her legs.

Apparently, they are not taking this slowly, not trying to draw this out, as is evidenced by the way Chloe’s hand slides from beneath Beca’s thigh to coast her fingertips along hot skin, until two fingers are sinking the whole way into Beca’s pulsing cunt. Immediately, Beca’s legs spread further apart, the tips of Chloe’s fingers curling to brush against tightened walls.

Hopefully, the rooms either side of them are unoccupied, because Beca is anything but quiet as Chloe’s tongue flickers relentlessly against her, as her fingers begin to move half way out and then the whole way back inside of her dripping pussy in a gentle rhythm, the speed of which picks up quickly, until Beca’s whole body clenches with the intensity.

Again, as if it has been two months rather than just two days, Beca can feel herself reaching her peak much more quickly than she would like. She’d ask Chloe to slow down if they didn’t have the whole weekend to repeat this countless times, to make each other scream the other’s name loudly enough to warrant at least one noise complaint.

But, they do, they have the whole weekend, and God, Beca can think of nothing she wants more.

Without warning nor caution, Beca comes with Chloe’s fingers sunk the whole way inside of her, her flattened tongue brushing without missing even a second of contact against her swollen clit, and Beca moans loudly in response, thighs trembling beneath Chloe’s touch.

As always, Chloe doesn’t stop right away. She continues to push kisses to Beca’s cunt, to lick and clean her up in a way that causes Beca to whimper and her hips to shake. Normally, unless she is going to jump right back in, Chloe proceeds to kiss her way back up Beca’s trembling body, until Beca can lazily seek out her lips with her own, taste herself so vividly on Chloe’s tongue. This time, however, while Chloe’s lips move from her center, they begin to trail down her thighs, and despite the fact that Beca is not looking at her, that her head is tipped back and her eyes are closed as she tries to catch her breath, she can feel the way Chloe’s lips begin to suck gently at the softest patch of skin.

“Get back up here,” Beca murmurs through an almost lazy moan, though she does nothing to actually move her. Her fingers, clutched onto the back of Chloe’s curls already, do not try to tug her up her body; instead, Beca lays back and whimpers beneath the feeling of Chloe’s lips against her inner thigh, until she registers the distinct feeling of teeth gently biting down.

Although it doesn’t hurt, and in fact is a sensation that Beca finds that she likes, that she finds incredibly possessive and downright sexy, she finds herself glancing downward to mumble, “Did you just bite me?”

Chloe pauses at that, though she doesn’t altogether stop. She does, however, lift her head until she can push a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the same patch of skin. “Sorry,” she murmurs, darkened eyes glancing upward toward Beca’s face. Beca’s teeth sink down gently into her bottom lip to hold back her smug smile, hungry eyes fixated on Chloe’s movements. Softly, Chloe pushes another small kiss to the already reddening area, gaze never leaving Beca’s face. Her words are raspy as she continues,

“All better, baby?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, [this is me](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com).


End file.
